I really meant to write this in Marrakech airport on my way home, or at least as soon as I arrived back but events seem to have overtaken me. In fact I am not entirely sure if one can write a travel blog when sitting at your own desk at home but too bad and here goes!

I had a few lovely classes during my last week but I think that my main contribution as a volunteer was in the garden. As I was breaking up the solid red sub-soil of the beds with the claw end of a hammer I felt that at times my labours rather resembled that of a convict than a volunteer! However the sun was still shining and I was given lots of praise and a lovely lunch at the end of it so I guess that the comparison didn't really go that far. When I wasn't breaking up the soil we were carrying buckets of good soil from a field nearby to try to improve the beds just a little. However, before the blisters on my hand grew too large salvation arrived in the form of a wonderful donation of plants from a group of English teachers who had recently visited the house, together with the welcome appearance of a gardener with a pick, a mattock and a load of donkey dung. Moreover he was not only extremely fit and strong but it soon became apparent that he really knew how to prepare the soil and encourage the plants to thrive. Within an hour we had been banished with our plastic buckets, dustpans and hammers and he laboured on for a solid 9 hours and transformed the place.

Meanwhile there had been much talk of a 'fete' at the Lycee to celebrate tolerance between the students of Asni and those of the outlying mountain villages. Initially Khadija was doubtful whether I could attend as I had not received formal 'authorisation' from the education authorities but as the girls kept asking me if I was going she relented and I was put in the hands of Khaoula and Soukayna and told not to leave their sides! The whole place was buzzing with a huge marquee and chairs for guests and staff as well as a stage which was bedecked with drapes, flags and speakers. I gathered it had been organised by students and parents from the surrounding villages in response to the recent knife fight between boys from Asni and the little village of Moulay Ibrahim. The whole event was opened by some very self-possessed final year girls beautifully dressed in long glitzy Moroccan dresses, and after a prayer by the Imam the programme began. The students were encouraging tolerance between everyone and they dressed up in traditional costumes of Berbers, Marrakech, the Sahara and Tangier as well as representing the various main villages which feed into the Lycee - Imlil, Ouirgane, Talat n'Yacoub and Moulay Ibrahim. Even though I had to rely on Khaoula to interpret periodically, I was so impressed by the confidence with which they spoke and the way they really worked the audience with jokes, stories and appeals for greater tolerance. I did wonder how well a similar group of British kids would put on an event such as this. A few boys also did a very impressive gymnastics display and there followed a wonderful, hilarious sketch around the story of an old Berber couple whose son goes off to France and then returns with a French wife and a very westernised daughter. It was so well acted that I hardly needed any interpretation. I just hope that they succeed in this drive and there is no more friction between the Asni kids and the rural ones.

As soon as I got back to the house I was chased out of the kitchen and dining room, where 'secret things' were being planned so I ended up in the garden watering in the dark by the light of my head torch as Khadija had not had time to water in all the plants.

But after supper all was revealed when I was led into the darkened dining room and the lights were put on to reveal all the girls who had decorated the room for a farewell party, were dressed up and made up in their party gear and had planned a wonderful programme of entertainment. We started with a party game with forfeits - mine was to do some Berber dancing which kept everyone well entertained! There were little drama sketches, hip hop, amazing Arabic dancing with some very impressive wiggling of bellies and bottoms as well as Berber drumming and dancing. We finished with a lovely speech which was SO touching. Khadija gave me a beautiful Marrakechi bedspread and we went through to the hall where there was a magnificent quiche and two huge chocolate cakes. There were lots of tearful hugs as I said goodbye to the girls that evening and then Khadija, Khamissa and Latifa early the following morning. Although I was looking forward to coming home and seeing everyone it suddenly felt very final - that the adventure really was coming to an end.

As the plane took off and I had my final view of the beautiful snowy ridge of Djebel Toubkal I felt terribly sad yet at the same time so happy and privileged that I had had the chance to spend two months with such a wonderful bunch of women.